


Dislocation

by subtlesinner



Category: The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Brotp, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtlesinner/pseuds/subtlesinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint volunteers to vet Bucky on his first SHIELD op, but things don't go as planned, and they need to work together to make it out alive. </p><p>I don't know why I always end up hurting Clint when I write fic... he just gets injured a lot, for some reason.</p><p>I obviously don't own the characters, just the stuff I write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dislocation

“You really think you’re ready for all this, Rookie?” Clint asked, shouldering his bow as he shouted through the sounds of the helicopter blades above them. “We can try again later, or postpone it to another day… They’re not going anywhere!” Clint inclined his head down toward the city below them.

“Rookie?” Bucky replied, one eyebrow raised in challenge, “Please, I’ve got fuckin rifles older than you.” He shifted in his seat, Clint noticing some obvious nerves despite Bucky’s attempt to deflect his question.

“James,“ Clint said, his voice warning, “Seriously… I can take this one, if you’re not feeling up to it-“

“Enough!” Bucky’s flesh hand had gone white-knuckled as he stared back at Clint defiantly, “Let’s just get this over with, already!” Clint sighed, shaking his head slightly and wishing James would listen to him… There was a reason Clint had been chosen to vet him; to decide whether or not The Winter Soldier had been rehabilitated enough to fight alongside the rest of the Avengers, and what remained of SHIELD. Steve had been slightly offended at first, when he’d found out that Clint had been chosen over him, but when Clint and Steve finally had a chance to actually talk about it, Steve had to admit that Fury’s reasons for choosing Clint were legitimately valid. With a small pout, Steve had finally conceded, allowing Clint to choose and evaluate Bucky’s first real-world-mission outside of Hydra control.

“Alright,” Clint shrugged, “We’re approaching the drop zone now. Three kilometers east of here, there’s an abandoned warehouse: that’s where our target is going to be making the deal. I want you to sweep in wide, and I’ll cover you from above.” James gulped visibly, nodding as he steeled himself for the adrenaline rush that was about to take over when he felt the helicopter finally begin it’s steady descent.

“Just relax, kid.” Clint smirked, enjoying how much the little nicknames got on Bucky’s nerves, temporarily distracting him as the helicopter finally touched down against the concrete landing pad. “Everything goes smoothly, and we could all be headed home by nightfall.” James made a face in response, but his nerves seemed to be getting the better of him as he struggled to retort.

Clint and Bucky climbed out of the helicopter fluidly, accepting a pack in addition to their weapons of choice from two SHIELD agents who had piloted the helicopter. Clint’s bow was already hanging off one shoulder as he settled a quiver over his other shoulder, and a second over his hip, each fully stocked with an arsenal of his favorite trick arrows.

When Clint finished checking over his quivers, a glint of steel caught his peripheral vision; Bucky was twirling a tactical knife between his metal fingers deftly, working out his nervous energy with the constant motion as he swung an M-15 assault rifle over his shoulder with the other hand.

“Let’s just get this over with.” Bucky said, setting his jaw stubbornly as Clint nodded back at him. The other two SHIELD agents climbed back into the helicopter and took off without another word, leaving Clint and Bucky to their work. Immediately, Bucky sheathed his knife and vaulted from the roof they were on to the building next to them, nimbly swinging himself down the fire escape and stealing into the shadows as he swept toward the outskirts of the silent, dark city. Clint followed slowly along behind Bucky, just close enough to trail the assassin.

“Alright, Barnes, I’m gonna post up on the roof of the building on your six.” Clint tapped Bucky on the shoulder as he passed him, climbing an access ladder up the outside of the building and onto the fire escape. Bucky gave a quick two-fingered salute before beginning a quick sprint toward the warehouse; he could see a single man standing in front of the entrance, a small SMG hanging loosely at his side as he leaned against the building while smoking a cigarette. Bucky unsheathed his knife silently and poised his arm to throw. As he was about to follow through, Clint’s voice cut through the silence, the words blurred around the edges with radio feedback.

“Barnes- We are going for non-lethal, here! Intel gathering only.” Bucky’s arm stilled temporarily, “You are only to engage hostiles if provoked.” He was only a few feet from the armed guard now, not daring to speak until the target had been neutralized. Before Bucky could react, the warehouse door swung open, a second armed man joining the first. Bucky glared in Clint’s general direction as he gestured frustratedly at the two men who immediately noticed him. One of the men’s hands flew to a walkie-talkie on his belt, but Bucky had buried a knife in the man’s fist before he could press the button. In the same fraction of a second, Clint had pinned the other guard to the wall with four separate royal purple fletched bolts. Bucky relieved the helpless man of his weapon, silencing the other man with one quick shot and leaning down to recover his knife from the dead man’s hand.

“So much for the subtle approach.”

“Subtlty’s not exactly my style.” Bucky replied, immediately busting through the door, his assault rifle drawn and loaded in one fluid movement.

“Wait… weren’t you an assassin for like… fifty years or something?” Clint asked sarcastically. “Isn’t subtlety like… assassin 101?” Bucky shrugged, but Clint had already lost visual contact with the Winter Soldier. He didn’t like how cavalier Barnes was growing, shrugging off Clint’s orders so immediately. Clint cursed, shouldering his bow once more as he scrambled back down the way he’d came and then followed Bucky’s tracks as quickly as he could. 

“Status update, Barnes. I lost visual and I’m headed toward your location. We need a change of plan!” As Clint burst through the door, he crossed the threshold just in time to see Bucky drop like a ton of bricks while four armed men grabbed him by his arms and legs. A fraction of a second later, Clint staggered to the ground as well, a minuscule taser round sinking into the side of his neck. Clint twitched uncontrollably as an electric current arced through him. Bucky exchanged a horrified glance with Clint who was quickly losing consciousness as Clint was held down by two men across the room from him. Bucky tried to fight the white-hot searing pain that was sticking inside him like pins and needles, managing to kick one guard free before the other three managed to lock his arms behind him and slip a heavy black hood over his head.

***

Hours later, Clint gasped awake when a bucket of ice cold water emptied over him, soaking his clothes and skin. He blinked twice before his eyes finally focused in the dimly lit room; Clint slowly tested his movement range, his eyes trained on the man who had doused him, a smug smirk plastered on the man’s face. Clint’s wrists were cuffed painfully tightly behind his back as he lay stranded on his side. Damp cement walls surrounded him on two sides with iron bars separating them from an additional cell that sat on the fringe of a large open room with a metal chair sitting in the middle, lit by a single, bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling.

‘Wake up, Avenger…” The guard sneered, “We wouldn’t want you to miss this next part. We’re gonna put on a little show.” Clint’s heart dropped as his eyes flicked toward the other cell, but it was empty. The guard’s eyes followed Clint’s line of vision, and he laughed harshly. “Patience, now. I’ll tell them to bring in the guest of honor now.” The guard let himself out of Clint’s cell and locked the door behind him. Calculating how quickly the man was walking, Clint hauled himself into a seated position as soon as the guard was out of sight. When he’d awoken, Clint had noticed that the taser round hadn’t been removed from his neck. A thought struck him out of desperation- a memory of his childhood spent working in a circus, and time spent with contortionists. As a kid, Clint had attempted to contort himself and accidentally dislocated his shoulder painfully. At the time, Clint had been horrified and embarrassed, but he counted himself lucky for having had the experience in the moment. Knowing he would have just seconds to maintain the illusion of his captivity, Clint locked one arm behind his back and pulled as hard as he could manage.

Clint bit his lip to stifle a sharp gasp of pain as he finally heard and felt the loud pop of his shoulder dislocating; he rolled to the opposite side, slipping his arms under his legs and around the front of his body and sitting upright once more, his right arm hanging loosely from the cuff attached to his left hand as it pulled at the thin metal prongs that had been embedded in his skin and grimacing when he finally freed them. The prongs were shorter than he’d hoped, but Clint had picked more difficult locks with worse tools. He swiped the prongs against his dirty pantleg before straightening one of the sides with his teeth. Clint could hear multiple sets of footsteps approaching from down the hall, accompanied by the sound of something heavy being dragged behind them. Allowing his right hand to sit loosely in his lap, Clint set to work picking the lock on the cuffs, nudging the last tumbler into place as the first heavy boot crossed through the doorway. Clint’s lip was nearly bloody as he quickly clasped his hands together behind his back just in time for the rest of the group to file into the room, dragging someone- Clint assumed, Bucky- behind them. Clint felt impossibly ill when he saw the men hoist Bucky off the ground, chaining him to the simple metal chair before they woke him just as they’d done to Clint: dousing him with a bucket of cold water. Bucky’s face was paper-white, and he was shaking uncontrollably; Clint noticed fresh burn marks around Bucky’s temples and he felt his stomach drop.

“Wake up, Winter Soldier!” One of the men shouted, “It’s time to show your Avenger friend how Hydra deals with their loose ends.” Bucky looked up at them from his seat, his expression submissive and fearful. Clint and Bucky’s eyes met for a fraction of a second before the guard buried a heavy blow into Bucky’s diaphragm. Bucky coughed and spluttered, causing the men to laugh viciously at him.

Scanning the room, Clint realized that no one was even remotely paying attention to him as they laid into Bucky, beating him brutally. Clint’s jaw clenched terribly when, after a particularly violent punch to the stomach caused Bucky to gasp sharply. Climbing to his feet, Clint slowly made his way to the door of his cell and felt around the lock, cursing when he realized he wouldn’t be able to pick it with the tiny metal prongs he’d used to break free of the handcuff. Another punishing blow landed connected with a sick thud, making Clint feel powerless; he stared at the ground momentarily, until he realized that the guards had removed all his weapons and quivers, but his boots and holsters remained intact. An idea struck him as he struggled to pull off his boot with one hand, silently apologizing to Bucky as he continued to hear yelps of pain and repetitive heavy impacts. Clint sunk to his knees, using the prongs to pry the rivets out of his boots, one at a time before he ran the same sharp prongs over the stitched support that held up the back of his boot, releasing a flat, thin piece of metal. Clint stole back over to the cell door, praying he could pick the lock before Bucky was put through anything more. Wiggling the piece of metal back and forth, Clint finally, triumphantly felt the last piece click into place before he swung the cell door open. He was honestly amazed how long it took the men to notice him, the hinges creaking as they hit the halfway point; Clint held one of the rivets from his boots between his thumb and forefinger and flicked it as hard as he could at the lightbulb, shattering it with a crash. 

Chaos ensued as the room was blanketed in darkness. Clint rolled forward and to the opposite side of the room, anticipating the blind gunfire that the guards were spraying over his head. Crawling along the wall, Clint circled back behind the group; he didn’t dare to move when the men finally stopped firing blindly.

“Fuck! Somebody get some light in here!” One of the men cursed. Clint could hear one set of heavy boots run out of the room, leaving just three armed men between Clint, Bucky and escape. 

“You can’t hide, Avenger-“ Another of the guards began to jeer, but his taunt was cut short when Clint’s fist collided with the man’s solarplexus, knocking him to the ground heavily. The sound of the impact gave away his position, causing the other two men to turn on their heels, but Clint was faster. He wrestled the SMG from the man who was now crumpled on the floor, allowing it to hang from his shoulder as he dispatched the other two operatives with two quick, clean shots, even in complete darkness. Sighing, Clint leaned down, recovering a set of keys from the man who was still writhing on the floor and kicking him once more, in the stomach for good measure. Without another thought, Clint grabbed at the lock that clasped the chains wrapped around Bucky with his good hand, allowing the SMG to dangle on his shoulder. Bucky flinched when Clint touched the chains in the dark, breathing in sharply as he steeled himself for more pain, but Clint instead tried urgently to whisper something to Bucky- anything that would snap him back into reality.

“Hey- it’s alright- it’s alright-“ Clint repeated, “It’s me- it’s Clint- I’m here to help you-“

“Cl-Clint?” Bucky asked shakily, some recognition beginning to spark as Clint finally managed to release the chains that bound him. Bucky started to let them fall away as he moved slowly, but stopped, his hearing far better than Clint’s. “Someone’s coming.” Clint stepped to Bucky’s side, picking up the SMG from his shoulder once more and steadying it against his hip as a lantern began to cast light from down the hallway. 

***

Clint and Bucky made their way down the hall slowly, Bucky walking hunched, and carrying a pistol he’d recovered from one of the fallen Hydra mercenaries, with Clint following shortly behind him, the SMG slung over his shoulder, while his other arm still hung limp at his side. Clint tapped Bucky gently on the shoulder when he noticed a door up the hall from them with yet another heavy padlock attached to it. Clint handed the keys to Bucky, who turned back to look at him questioningly. 

“My arm’s gonna be useless until we get a minute. Recovering our weapons and escaping is more important right now.” Clint said sheepishly; Bucky closed his mouth abruptly, nodding and getting to work unlocking the door. “We need to get out of here, fast.” The door swung open on its hinges, allowing James to enter the room and turn on a light, quickly scanning over the storage shelves until he finally found what he’d been searching for. James’s guns and knife were piled loosely next to Clint’s bow and two quivers full of trick arrows, the arrows having fallen out of the quivers and scattered all over the floor.

“Oh- come on!” Clint groaned as he stepped into the room behind Bucky, taking one look at the scattered arrows and then turning back to face the hallway. “Don’t worry about the arrows too much, just take what you need.”

“You don’t need any arrows?” James asked, looking back at Clint inquisitively, but Clint shrugged back at him sarcastically. 

“I’m not exactly going to be able to shoot it at the moment.”Bucky tilted his head in concession, shrugging as he slid his knife into a sheath on his leg and nestled his familiar M-15 in the crook of his elbow, handing Clint one of the half-filled quivers, and hooking Clint’s bow over his shoulder as he’d seen Clint do before. 

Just the familiarity and feel of the weapons helped to ground James in the moment, warding off some of the horribly familiar helpless feeling he’d felt when he’d been tortured less than an hour before. 

“Alright, let’s sweep left, and head for the outskirts of the city. I’lll call in an extraction once we find someplace to lie low.” Clint said, tapping Bucky gently on the shoulder as he gave the directions. Bucky nodded in agreement, steeling himself in case they ran into any other bumps along their escape route. “I don’t think we should split up this time.” Clint added, nodding toward his useless arm once more.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Bucky started, turning back to Clint’s second quiver and drawing his knife, cutting the shoulder strap off with ease, and cutting a second strip of the woven fabric that covered the quiver, tying the two straps together and looping them around his shoulder loosely alongside Clint’s bow. “You’ll need some kind of sling once we re-set your shoulder.” Clint grimaced at the prospect, but he knew Bucky was probably right.

“We can worry about that when we get there.” Clint tried to shrug, but realized that was an awful idea. They finally set out, back in the direction they’d come from, recovering their tracks, and then sweeping through the building slowly. When they had finally determined the warehouse was indeed empty, Clint and Bucky finally left the warehouse, tightly grouped as they swept toward the edge of the city and into the surrounding forest for cover. 

Clint and Bucky hiked for a half an hour before they finally found a cliff formation that they could use to shelter themselves from prying eyes. Clint was grateful, as the pain from his shoulder had become white-hot and nearly unbearable on the dislocated joint, spiking and throbbing with every jarring movement. Bucky noticed Clint’s discomfort as they finally dropped their gear to the ground, Clint’s jaw clenched tightly as he gingerly touched around the bone protruding awkwardly from under his uniform.

“Come over here, Clint.” Bucky beckoned him, motioning for Clint to sit down on a boulder in front of him. Clint obliged, easing himself down slowly to sit in front of Bucky, leaning forward with his elbow on his knee. Bucky put one hand on Clint’s bicep, and the other on Clint’s collarbone, his palm settling on the top of his pectoral. “This is really gonna hurt…”

“Just do it.” Clint said, gritting his teeth in preparation. “The longer you wait, the more I’ll think abou-“ Without warning, Bucky pushed Clint’s arm back into its socket with a loud and sickening pop. “Aah!“Clint’s face turned slightly green as he gasped in pain, Bucky looking back at him apologetically. “-t it.” Clint finished, holding his arm in a crooked position with the other hand as Bucky pulled the straps of cloth off his neck and looping it over Clint’s neck, creating a makeshift sling for Clint’s arm to help relieve some of the pressure on his sore shoulder. “God damn, that fucking hurt.” Clint scowled, handing Bucky the radio from his belt, and motioning for him to call in their extraction.

Bucky faltered, finding himself unable to press the button to send in the call; Clint’s brow furrowed as he watched, until he finally broke the silence.

“Come on, Barnes, call us in. I need some kind of painkiller as soon as possible.” Bucky chewed his lip for a moment, before replying.

“I-“ He started, swallowing thickly, “I can’t call it in. I- I froze up today, and it endangered the both of us. It was my first day back in the field in a long time, and I fucked it up, badly.” Bucky shrugged, his expression dropping sadly. Clint looked back at Bucky incredulously, mortified that he would blame himself for the spectacular failure that was the mission. An op Clint had planned specifically because he’d wanted to test Bucky’s limits. The pit of his stomach felt almost venomous at the thought that Bucky had been forced back into the hands of his abusers directly because of a decision Clint had made. But he didn’t know how to verbally express that to the scraggly-haired brunette without distancing Bucky even further, and what they really needed now was rescue.

“Bucky, look-“

“Call me James, Clint.” James corrected, his eyes flicking up at Clint, almost daring him to look back at James with pity. “Bucky is a nickname from my childhood, and I honestly don’t know if that person even exists anymore.” Clint nodded, trying to keep James’s attention with him despite the aching pain through his shoulder, arm and back. 

“James, look, I don’t hold you responsible for any of what happened back there.” James rolled his eyes, but Clint persisted. “If anything, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who chose the Op, but I didn’t think there would be Hydra-“ James clenched his jaw at the name, “I never intended to expose you to a situation where you could be-“ James cut him off before he could finish speaking, his breathing coming in short bursts through his nostrils as he struggled to speak.

“Don’t say it, Clint. Don’t act like I’m broken. Everybody treats me like I’m fragile, and I’m so sick of it-”

“Look, James, what I’m trying to tell you, is… I get it.” Clint said, locking his eyes with James’s, not allowing the Winter Soldier to look away from him.

“There’s a reason I was assigned to escort you on this mission, and not Steve.”

“Oh really?” James asked dryly, pacing as he ran his metal hand through his hair. “And why’s that?” Clint chewed his own lip for a moment before he answered, struggling to force himself to say the words. Even despite all the time that had passed, and the many, many times Natasha had reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, Clint still felt massive waves of guilt wash over him when he thought about his time spent under Loki’s control.

“Because I’ve been through it, too.” His voice was quiet when he finally admitted it, his tone surprising James, who was facing away from him as Clint spoke. ’When someone else is calling the shots, pushing you out and putting someone else in.” Clint swallowed dryly, “When you’re watching yourself do things, which seemed logical at the time, but when you really think about it, and remember it-” Clint’s voice cracked, just slightly, and James turned back; Clint’s features were cloudy with both physical, and emotional pain, “You see just how fucked it really was.” James nodded somberly, acknowledging Clint’s words. Clint rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, realizing that he would do nothing to inspire confidence in James, if he were to break down in front of the cosmetically younger man. “So, uh, if you ever need to talk, or anything…” Clint ended sheepishly, which garnered a small chuckle from James. 

“So, for the love of God, can we call in an extraction, now? I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling pretty shitty.” James chuckled harder, finally lifting the radio to his lips and rattling off a distress call along with their coordinates to the extraction team.

***

Hours later, Steve and Natasha stood on the SHIELD landing bay, facing into the setting sun; Steve paced nervously while Natasha stood behind him, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched him.

“This was supposed to be a quick in and quick out OP, Natasha. Where are they?” He turned to face Natasha, his jaw set in frustration. “I knew I should have been there. Even just as a back-up extraction, I-“

“Steve-“ Natasha cut him off, finally dropping one arm to her side, her other resting on Steve’s chest gently. “That’s enough. I’m sure they’re fine.” As Natasha finished speaking, a female voice sounded over the intercom, announcing the arrival of an extraction team that would be touching down where they stood in a matter of moments.

“What did I tell you?” Natasha quirked an eyebrow, a small smile painting her features as she and Steve made their way back indoors to wait for the helicopter that had been quickly approaching them to land.

As the heavy metal doors slid open, Steve’s eyebrows knitted together; Clint had one arm slung over Bucky’s shoulder, and was leaning heavily on him as they climbed down onto the concrete landing pad. Natasha clicked her tongue as she noticed Clint’s arm hanging limply in a navy and white medical sling, a look of pain evident in his features as the pair continued trudging into the hangar, not noticing Steve and Natasha until they were inside. Two SHIELD pilots followed closely behind them, but made a wide berth when they noticed two Avengers waiting beyond the paneled door.

“What happened?” Steve immediately asked, his demeanor softening just slightly when he saw the way Bucky winced slightly on Clint’s behalf as he helped Clint transfer his weight onto Natasha’s shoulders. He groaned, before looking at Steve apologetically.

“There was a little problem; a small- er- oversight, that got us into a little bit of trouble…”

Clint stammered, trying his best not to look like an idiot, even though he knew he wasn’t doing well when Natasha rolled her eyes.

“We were set up… The Intel we were supposed to get was bait for a Hydra sting.” Bucky admitted tightly, anticipating the way Steve stiffened at the words. “We got caught by a couple mercs, and ended up having to fight our way back out.” Steve was fuming with anger, his fists balled tightly as he watched Bucky’s body language when he spoke.

“It was all my fault, Steve.” Clint volunteered, raising his un-injured hand. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re damned right, it was your fault!” Steve started to yell, but the sharp look in Natasha’s eye stopped him from escalating any further. 

“That’s enough, Steve.” Bucky said calmly, his words short and to the point. “It’s been a long day. Let’s just get some rest. We can debrief later.” Bucky looked at Clint, who had a small smile on his face at Bucky’s composure throughout the exchange, “But first, I think we should probably make a trip to medical. I did what I could on the helicopter, but Clint’s arm was completely dislocated and then relocated in the field… He’s gonna need some pretty heftypainkillers for a few days.” Clint winced when Natasha shifted underneath him.

Steve and Bucky walked in step with Natasha and Clint, the four of them cutting an imposing group as they shuffled down the hall; groups of SHIELD agents filed around them, some of the younger agents being bold enough to stare as they passed, and then whisper amongst each other like teenagers. Silence fell upon the hallway as Nick Fury stepped out of a hidden hallway quickly, blocking the group from their route to the medical bay.

“Barton. You were due to report for debrief six hours ago.” He spoke flatly, unamused. “What the hell happened?”

“All due respect, sir-“ Bucky began, but Fury interrupted him immediately. 

“I didn’t ask you, Barnes.” Clint tried to stand up a little straighter, his eyes locked on Fury’s as he cleared his throat thickly.

“Our intel was bad.” Clint said carefully. “We’re headed to Medical right now to get checked out; figured we could debrief after.” Fury looked agitated.

“I don’t have a lot of time, Barton.” He finally relented. “But you and I need to have a talk, in private. Before I leave base tonight.” Clint nodded curtly before Fury turned on his heel, allowing them to continue toward the Medical wing.

*** 

 


End file.
